The Death Toast

An Alliteration

Night descended as it always did on Dexter, retiring people to their beds after the labour of the day and down in Boorbunk what signified the coming of the night was the utter darkness that they were hit with as the inmates lay now on their creaky metal beds that was not entirely their size. Snores could be heard everywhere but even if everyone was going to sleep not Pierson, not Tristan, not Dale.

Pierson was sitting on his bed with a locket in his hand, attached to a chain. He had that locket in his possession since…a long time ago. He didn’t know how long he had worn that necklace as a bracelet on his wrist. It was since his life had started, since light had come to it, about fifteen years ago. He opened the locket and brought out the pictures it contained. Through the dark, he managed to see the faces of the people on it. There was Michael’s face on the first picture, Barry was next and then the rest of them had followed, in the order in which they had met.

All through his life, h